Say I Love you (Hetalia RusAme)
by Indepednt Skies
Summary: (kind of gory) Russia can't stand the sound of America's voice. When America comes over uninvited with a couple of drinks Russia unexpectedly slits America's throat. He isolates America in his home and enjoy's the fact that America can't speak anymore. Although as the months go by America begins to almost enjoys his forced silence; something Russia can't seem to understand. RusAme
1. Chapter 1

I always hated the annoying sound of your voice. It's loud, obnoxious, and irritating to listen to. How did you ever become the leader of the Allies? All you do is boast about yourself and stuff your fat face with food. I hate it, having to be ordered around by an idiot like you. I hate it, I hate these meetings, I hate the Allies, I hate the world, and most of all I hate you.

* * *

><p>"Yo! What up Russia"!?<p>

After an exasperating world meeting, for some bizarre reason, America came to my house. He came blasting through the door as if any house legally belonged to him.

"What are you doing here America-"?

"Hey! Russia! Your house is freezing! Isn't there any place in your country that's warm"!?

There he goes cutting off my sentences again. It wasn't only me too. He basically did that to everyone. Even if it wasn't even important he'd cut you off just to hear his own voice. I tried not to get impulsive by this brat and tried my best to smile, "And what if I said there was"?

"Then I would like to see it"!

"Why would you want to see it"?

"Because dude! I told you its freezing! It's always snowing here! I wanna see a big patch of green grass and run through it like when I was little! You're so cold Russia"!

It is as if he likes the sound of his voice, but I for one can't stand it. I wish he would just shut up. Imagining a silent America is rather scary, but at the same time I think it would be bliss if America couldn't speak; yes it would be bliss. If America's sound was engulfed by the snow, that would give me such pleasure.

"You always wear scarfs, you wear the heaviest coats, and your food is almost as bad as Britain's! But don't worry dude I brought some beer and as a sweet treat I brought some Coke"!

He's so aggravating always drinking sugary crap and insulting others; just shut up!

"I don't understand how you could live here!? I mean your sisters drive you insane don't they!? If I had siblings like that I would high tail out of this place in no time flat"!

America was too preoccupied by himself that he could never really be rattled by my ominous shadow like everyone else was. He could never tell; he's such an idiot. He raised a bottle of Coke up high with excitement and opened it shouting "Okay! It's party time-"!

*CRASH*!

I smacked the bottle from his hands and it shattered against the wall. America looked at me as if he was about to throw a childish fit "Hey!? What the hell was that for-!? Ugh! Hmpf"!?

I took my left hand, grabbed America by the jaw, and forced him to the floor. I was greatly amused by the confusion and fear he had in his eyes.

"Ha… haha… You can never shut your big mouth, can you America? Is that the only thing you can do; talk loud and insult others? I can stand you, but what I can't stand any longer is your voice. It's so high pitched and it echoes throughout my ears. Why can't you just shut the hell up"!?

When I raised my voice America began to tremble and I looked at him with such disgust. He's such a spoiled brat. He kept flexing his throat and I could feel his tongue struggling to speak, but my grip firmly kept his mouth shut. I looked over towards the glass Coke bottle and picked up the broken neck with my other hand. I straddled America so he wouldn't struggle and pointed the sharp tip at the base of his neck.

"Hmpf! Ugh"!

"I think everyone even Britain would enjoy a silent America? Yes, everyone would be better if no one could hear you".

The glass shard pierced through America's skin as I slowly pressed it harder into his neck and he kicked and screamed as I held him down. He actually managed to get words out as I leisurely dragged in across his neck.

"S-stop it! You psycho! Let go- Ugh"!

I pushed him back down pressing him into the wooden floor using my entire palm to keep his mouth shut. I slit his throat from end to end and threw the shard of glass across the room. He coughed and gaged on his blood and saliva. I was in such a haze, I never knew that watching America struggle and choke by my hands was so entertaining.

"*cough*! Ack-! *gasp*"!

I was having so much fun that I wanted to do more. We're both countries; America and I, our physical bodies can survive without hearts, so the same goes for other parts of our bodies. I wriggled my fingers into the wound and wrapped them around a fleshy and flexible like tube. I made sure not to grab the bone, I gripped it tightly and with as much force as I could muster I pulled it out.

Blood splattered everywhere, on the walls, and it seeped into the rug. I was a bit upset by it, but as I held the bloody flesh that I had just ripped from America's throat I was panting with excitement. I chuckled under my breath and as watched America's body twitch, I laughed. I wanted to make sure America could never speak another word.

* * *

><p>It's always dark during the winter in my country. The overcast is thick and could take days or even weeks to clear. My people are trapped in their houses because the snow is deadly and ruthless to those who underestimate it.<p>

"Hmm…"?

Somehow America was surprisingly mobile. He blinked his eyes a couple of times and then groaned as he sat up in the bed I had let him rest in. He looked rather pissed off and absent of what had happened. His hair was a mess and as he swung his legs over to hang over the side of the bed he moved as if his limbs were extremely stiff.

America looked around for me, but I was nowhere in his sight. He put his glasses on and rubbed his eyes once more. He was pretty calm until he tried to call out my name.

"rahh… uh-"?

Just then America's body froze; he didn't twitch, he didn't move a single muscle. His heart skipped a beat, maybe even two, and his face turned almost as white as the snow. He gazed downward even though the problem wasn't in his view. He trembled as he slowly brought his hands to his throat. He ran his fingers over the bandages I had wrapped around his neck and he felt small bumps that were concealed underneath the bandages.

Trying not to think of the worst he opened his mouth again to say something, but all that came out were pitiful whimpers.

"…ahh! …eh… aa…"!?

Feeling terrified America jumped from the bed and rushed into the bathroom bumping his sides and shoulders on the doorways and sharp corners. He burst through the bathroom door and clung to the bathroom sink as he tripped on the way in. He pulled himself up to the bathroom mirror, panting heavily.

"…ahh"!?

With trembling lips America viewed his bandaged neck for himself and as he stepped back a few steps he tore at the bandages and hurriedly unwrapped them. The blood stained bandages unraveled onto the floor and America stared in the mirror in shock at the protruding gash stretching across the front of his neck that was stitched closed with a thick thread.

"Ugh… ahhh…"

America slumped to the bathroom floor staring ahead in shock. I wandered through the door, slowly walked up behind him, and gently grabbed both of his shoulders. I hovered over him and smiled "Hmm? Is there something a matter America? Tell me what's wrong"?

"Ngh"! America looked up at me with one of the funniest glares he had even given me yet. I really couldn't help but laugh. He reached up and gripped the front of my scarf to try and pull me down, but even he knew that it wasn't possible with my size.

I patted his head happily, dragged him into the dining room, and propped him onto a chair at the dining room table. He tried to get up and strangle me, but I pushed him firmly back into the seat. He eventually sat there with an aggravated look as I placed a bowl of plain heated beef broth in front of him. I sat across from him eating a plate full of delicious Plov; a common Russian dish that consists of beef, rice, and few vegetables cooked together in a thick meat sauce.

America would look down at the still bowl of lukewarm beef broth and then back at me with an expression as if he was about to explode in a fit of rage. I took another bit and then swallowed with an optimistic attitude I taunted America "Is there something wrong America? Is the soup cold? Well that's your own fault then".

"…."

"I'm sorry that it's not like your distasteful burgers and French fries, but I don't even want to imagine what would happen if you tried to eat solids with that open hole in your neck".

"…"

"Come on don't just glare at me silently, I can't tell what you're thinking if you're silent. Then again it must be hard to speak without your trachea, hehe".

"!?"

"Hmm"?

America's left eye twitched, but he took a deep breath, lifted the bowl of soup with his hands, and threw it at my face. The bowl tumbled to the floor and my hair and sweater were soaked with beef broth. America slowly sat back down in his seat and looked at me with displeasure.

Of course I didn't right away blow up in his face. I gave it a moment for him to know what he had just did and I smiled and gave a small giggle. I then reached over and picked up the empty bowl, strolled over into the kitchen and dipped it into the boiling pot over the stove and refiled it. America watched me, but half way through he looked away, but when I came strolling back in with the bowl he flinched a little. I stood there with the bowl smiling down at him as he nervously waited for me.

Without breaking my happy expression even once I gladly took the bowl of boiling hot soup and bashed it into his face. I stood there and watched as he tumbled to the floor and tried to wipe the hot soup off his face. The ceramic bowl shattered as he coughed and gaged on all fours and he gave up just lying there helplessly and pitifully.

"*cough*! Ugh! Ngh-"!?

I strolled over to him and pulled him up by his hair that was dripping in soup.

"Do you understand now America"?

"Ugh…"

"The position you're in? I can do whatever I want to you and you can't say a single thing about it. You have no voice America, so basically you have no rights. How does it feel to have your freedom taken right from under your nose? How does it feel not being able to have a say in anything? No more excuses, insults, and words of arrogance will escape from your lips, and you know what the best thing about this is"?

"...uhh…"?

"Hehe. Is that no one cares if you can speak or not".

"….", he looked away, too ashamed to look me in the eyes.

Letting go of his hair, I let him lay there in self-pity. I walked out of the room planning to go for a stroll in the snow and could hear him sniffling on the floor still desperately trying to speak.

"…ahh *hic* ugh… *sniff* …agh…"

_**~To Be Continued...**_


	2. Chapter 2

I had left America alone for a while just to give him some space, but when I had come back he was still laying there curled up on the floor. It turns out he had actually fallen asleep. I couldn't believe he was still lying there, like a helpless child; it's pathetic. I placed him to bed and then went to sleep myself, but I had forgotten that America isn't always as dumb as he looks. He is the first country ever to learn all the languages in the world and speak them fluently and he did beat me to the moon, but I'm not going to go there. America had found his own way to make words.

"*scribble* *scribble*"

"Hmm"?

It was about 4:00 AM when I had heard some strange scribbling sound throughout the house. I leaned up in my bed and pulled over the thick cover to switch on my nightstand lamp. I rubbed my eyes, fixed my sweater, and strolled into the living room.

Before I turned the lights on I followed the sound of the scribbling. The sound eventually led me to my work desk. I could faintly see America's curl bouncy as he moved at a seemly fast pace. I stood hovering over America and when I turned on the lights I saw him clutching a pen tightly in his right hand.

"…"!?

America was so surprised by my entrance that he fell out of the chair he was sitting in. It was kind of cute until I looked over at what he was doing. Scattered on my desk were pages and pages of hand written letters. I looked back at the frightened America with a dry expression.

"America…"?

"…."

I knelt down in front of him and as he tried to squirm away I held out my hand and said "America give me the pen".

Instead of handing me the pen he tightly clutched in his hands he trembled as he handed me a piece of paper he had shoved in his pocket. It was crumbled into a little ball so I unraveled it, and in really sloppy hand writing, it said "[Why?]"

"Haha… _Why?_ Hahaha! You are so funny America!" I crumbled up the small paper as America looked up at me confused.

"…."?

Eventually I stopped laughing and pulled America up by the neck of his jacket. I explained "Did you think I ripped out your throat all on a whim? No I did of specifically so you couldn't speak. I wanted to make damn sure that you could say a single word with that flapping tongue of yours. Now I won't ask again America give me the pen".

It was almost amusing. America trembled and looked as if he was about to burst into tears. He dropped the pen he held so tightly and I swiped it from the floor. I let go of his jacket and commanded him firmly "Now go back to bed".

"…."

America sluggishly slinked back onto the couch, curled up and went back to sleep. Although I on the other hand could not get back to sleep; I tossed, turned, and struggled to keep my body still and my eyes shut. My God? How does America fall asleep so fast without any trouble?

I reluctantly kicked off my covers and wandered into the kitchen to grab a mug of vodka. It's sweet with a sharp punch to enlighten your tongue. After some groaning and grogginess I became bored enough to take a glance at what America had so desperately tried to write.

Those scrambled papers were scattered across my desk and most of them were simple American phrases.

"[I'm hungry]"

"[This is lame]"

"[You're an ass!]"

"[I need a belt buckle]"? I couldn't quite understand that last one, but then the rest were letters to Japan, someone named Canada, and Britain. I at least decided to read Britain's.

"[Dear Britain,

You're probably thinking that I'm dead by now from eating too much, but really it's just a small cold. I'm trying to get through it quickly so I can return, but my boss has been in quite a fix lately with the economy and loss of jobs throughout the country so I might not be back for a while; in which case I'm leaving you in charge until I get back. I know you probably think I'm an idiot from doing all the things I do that you think are stupid, but really I'm fine. I promise you no matter how long I've been gone I'm completely alright. Anyway I've got a bunch of paper work to do; Ugh! This is so lame! Anyway see you around.

Sincerely, America]"

At that point I actually began to feel guilty, but I didn't regret anything. I placed the letter back on the desk and when America woke in the next couple of hours, after I placed a bowl of his usual bland beef broth, I placed the pen next to the steamy bowl. As usual I went to sit in my seat across from him and waited to see what he would do. America just looked at me really weird. He'd look down at the pen, then back at me, back down at the pen, and then again back at me. It was as if he was asking permission with his eyes if it was okay to take it. I just tilted my head, closed my eyes, and smiled.

America hesitated at first, but he quickly swiped it from the table and held it securely in his lap. He then quickly looked back at me, but I just mildly ate my breakfast. The expression of relief overwhelmed him entirely, as if he had just escaped a death sentence.

I went back to eating my breakfast and after a little while America suddenly reached down his jacket and pulled out a medium sized note book and immediately began to write. I looked at him unamused and said "You took my note book too"?

America nodded as he wrote, and when he was done he tore the paper from the spine, folded it in half, and pushed it down to the other end of the table to me. I looked at that white paper with indifference; I picked it up, and read it to myself.

"[Thanks asshole]"

"Hehe… Your quite welcome", I smiled in reply and America gave me this smirk as if it was to say that we were equal. He lifted his bowl and it one gulp he swallowed the whole thing; which probably wasn't the smartest idea because he choked, but you know American's when they're happy their happy idiots.

"*cough*!*cough*! ugh…"

"Hehe don't drink so fast America, you'll choke".

"Ehh…", America scribbled on his; well my notepad again and held it up in front of him, "[Right! Thanks again dick! : ) ]"

"Hehe…", I smiled back at him, but secretly I suggested in the back of my mind that maybe I'll just let him have the pen and my notepad on certain days of the week.

* * *

><p>It took a while to notice, but it seemed as if the days were going by much faster. It's been a couple of weeks ever since America lost his voice, and the laceration on his neck was healing well, but it's pretty big.<p>

When I unraveled his bandages for the last time the wound was a scar. It was a lighter tone compared to the rest of his skin. It wasn't like a thin line going across his neck. It was a thick line that stretched out like spikes as if it was spreading to the bottom of his chin down to the top of his collar bone. It wasn't pretty, but it wasn't unattractive or displeasing to the eye, it was just very obvious and rather difficult to miss.

When I gave America his breakfast I noticed something. I placed his sixth bowl of soup down and took a good long look at him. He looked up at me and asked "[Is something wrong?]"

"Hmm…? America do you feel weird"?

"[Um? I don't think so?]"

America looked so befuddled the entire time I observed him. I had realized that America had never been outside once ever since he got here. Maybe I should take him outside for once? I mean what am I supposed to do when he's as pale as the moon? I really didn't want to show him any kind of freedom, but just once I would like to see his reaction to the snow.

Like the total slob he is he picked the bowl up and drank the whole thing again. Then again maybe I'll just bury him in the snow?

"[Hey can I have another bowl!?]"

"Hmm? America…?", I took the bowl from him and then grabbed him gently by the chin.

"Ugh!? A-ahh…!?", he blushed so red, like a teenage virgin. I never get tired of messing with him. He was completely speechless it almost looked like he was going to wet himself.

I lifted his chin up at looked at that long stretched out scar that almost looked as if it was going to consume him. I pulled his face closer and mine half way and stated with a smile "America I know you're not a very big fan of snow, but you don't really have a choice because if you go against me I won't tolerate it. Hehe… and you've already learned that the hard way".

America was acting really weird. He was rubbing his knees together as if he had an itch and his cheeks were puffed out as if he was in some kind of pain. His face was as red as a tomato. I smirked and brought my face closer and whispered softly to him "What's wrong America? You got a problem down there? If you want I can help"?

"Ah… A-ahh…"

"Come on America use those pitiful little sounds to tell me what to do".

"Uh… Uahh"!

*smack*

America smacked my hand away and dashed into the bathroom. I stood there in surprise and America threw the paper at me. I picked it up and read it "[I've gotta take a major piss! Why'd you let me drink that much soup!? Asshole!]"

"Sigh~ because you asked for more. Idiot"

When America eventually took care of his business I made him put on his coat, his scarf, his boots, and even his mittens, but there was something missing. I looked at him and I realized that every time America walked his cowlick would bounce sometimes. I told him "You need a hat".

I handed him an old hat of mine. It had blue and red stripes on it, but unfortunately no white. He held it and looked at it distastefully.

"[Huh!? I don't need a hat! I'm a hero! Hero's don't wear hats like these! They wear Awesome really cool looking masks to hide their identity as they do badass things!]"

"America…"?

"[What!?]"

"Put the hat on"

After I gave him my death stare it didn't take long for America to put the hat on.

When I opened the front door America didn't hesitate once to burst through and leap into the snow. He was so enthusiastic and eager as nothing could stand in his way. He tumbled in the snow and rolled around in it. I lowered my head in disgrace and thought; he's such a child.

I left America enjoy himself for the day and looked around. In this place it doesn't stop snowing often so I took the chance to observe. When the amount of snow goes down somewhere out here there is a small but deep lake, but when it snows heavily it always manages to elude me because the snow tends to consume everything under it. I looked everywhere but I could remember where the lake was located; until I heard a crack echo from below, right underneath my feet. I turned and looked to my right to see America mindlessly jumping around, and the crackling sound didn't bother me until I heard it again, and it was coming from America's direction.

It was always an ability of mine; it's almost like a sixth sense, being able to hear the sounds that the snow absorbed. I kept telling myself it was nothing, but when I heard it again and louder this time I looked over towards America again and watched him stumble.

"America"!

I don't know what came over me? It happened so fast, but I never ran so fast for another person. I've felt it before, the sudden shift as your body plunders between the crushing ice and into the freezing water. That blistering cold doesn't just quickly take you and turn your body numb; it breaks you like thousands of small needles piercing through all your nerves at once. It horrific and excruciating, and as you helplessly bang on the ice to breath your heart is thumping and beating so loud and so hard that it feels like your is pounding against two rough cement bricks gradually pressing together.

I grabbed America by his hood and pulled him backwards almost dragging him. Then the idiot tripped again and we tumbled together down a small hill. America landed stuck on his back with his arms half way above his head and I hovered on top of him breathing heavily.

"…"!?, America looked up at me with a clueless expression.

"*pant**pant*", I was completely out of breath. Breathing in this dry frigid air could possibly be the death of me if I breathed it in hard enough.

America pulled his notebook out of his jacket and held it up to me "[Is there something wrong?]"

I'm exhausted and covered in snow, so it didn't take much for me to yell at him by that point, "You're moron! Can't you be anything but that!? Maybe I should have ripped off your head!? You'd be smarter that way"!

"Pfft…. Ha- ahaha… Ha- haha-ha"!

"Huh!? Why the hell are you laughing!? If I hadn't pulled you off the thin ice the lake would have taken you! You could have died- Uh"!?

I looked up towards where I thought the cracks of breaking ice were splitting, but the only thing I saw a small broken branch. An entire sentiment of humiliation and absurdity stabbed me right through the chest; my pride just couldn't take it, what I had just done. I got up and whacked my head on nearby trunk of a withered tree and from behind me I could still hear America laughing.

"Ha! Ha-haha-ha! Haha-ha"!

Covering one side of my face with my hand and with my head still against the tree, I slowly gazed over at America and watched, humiliated and chastened as he rolled around in the snow laughing his ass off at my mistaking. I was really mortified, my cheeks were flustering, but I was also astounded at the fact that America can still laugh. It was choppy and jagged but it was still his voice, his sound, the obnoxious resonance that I so satisfactorily robbed from him. His stuttered laugh was nothing like those pitiful sounds that managed to escape from his throat; no this was proof that America's spirit, his existence; his freedom could never be completely abolished.

After a couple of hours of watching America make sloppy snow angels, I eventually had to drag him back inside the house in order for him to come in. I had already had a fire going so the house was nice in warm. When America was dragged through the front door he got a full blast of heat and complained about his nose, cheeks, and ears stinging; god he's such a child.

It was already late evening, so I sat America on the couch on front of the fire and threw a wool blanket at him for him to wrap himself in. I hovered over the stove stirring a pot of hot milk and smooth melted chocolate. I turned around and looked at the back of the couch to see America's small cowlick just reaching above the top of the sofa and hollered "America, do you want some hot coco"?

America held the notebook up above his head and dramatically wrote "[Yes!]"

I scooped a ladle of hot coco into a two mugs and brought it over to the couch, handed one to America, and then sat next to him. It wasn't quite as America chugged his down in less than a minute and after he went back for three more cup fills he finally began to settle down. I guess that means America has some kind of ADHD (Attention Deficit Hyperactive Disorder) because it's said that young children with ADHD are calmed or relaxed when the consumption of sugar or hyper drugs such as caffeine is consumed in the body.

America was just drowsy for a couple of minutes, but then he began leaning on my shoulder. I was planning on pushing him off, but he was so harmless even though he did drool quite a bit. He held up for a little while but his body began to shift and he rolled over onto my lap. I looked down at him rather annoyed.

"America…"?

"*snore* ugh… nawhh…"

"Hmm…", I refrained from touching him and tried to focus on the relaxing fire, but his sleeping face was rather amusing. He'd open his jaw wide and snore with snot and drool dripping from his face like a yak trying to eat water and blow his nose at the same time; it was rather disgusting. Although I have to say that it's the only way I like seeing America when he's still breathing. He's quiet, and there's a 100% guarantee that he won't wake up for a couple of hours and you can put him anywhere and he'll sleep.

I regret it but I lightly stroked America golden hair; it was soft. I had to at least rest one hand on him or else I would have had to hold my arms up all evening. Since I was so comfortable I decided to just get the best out of the moment.

As America laid there vulnerable and careless I could see his wrists. As he rolled around his jacket sleeve shifted up his arms. His fingers and wrists were thinner than usual and in such a cold environment you need a nice layer of fat to keep you warm. America, like me, was rather large and bulky with maybe a bit of flub. As an adult he was never on small side unless standing next to me, which was almost never, so it was weird to see his limbs so skinny; they looked like they could be effortlessly snapped or pulled.

Then again the only thing America has ever eaten for a couple of months now is simple beef broth; anyone would become malnourished from eating just that. Although he's never tried to eat solids, but no matter how you look at it, if America keeps going on like this; he'll die.

_**~To Be Continued...**_


	3. Chapter 3

**Note: Apperently I had an issue with one of my viewers and I know it's a really violent Fanfiction so if the summary says "gory" in it please don't read this Fanfiction mostly because in up coming chapters it'll probably get violent again. This is my first gory Fanfiction so I'm Sorry if it offends anyone in anyway. I try write to please my readers not upset them. Also this is only chapter 5. I haven't been writing lately so I thought it would be okay if I didn't do this part in a pair. Sorry for my mistakes or errors and I very much welcome your reviews and likes. :)**

* * *

><p>"Remove it"<p>

"[Huh!? What hell are you saying!? I'm not taking it off! It's too cold for this shit!]"

"Just take off your damn shirt America"

"[NO!]"

This was a rather difficult way to start off the day. I got America up early the next day and lugged him into the bathroom as I got the tub ready. I rolled up my sleeves and prepared for the worst.

"America you haven't taken a bath in almost about a week"

"[No I washed my hair in the sink]"

"I meant your body dumbass"

"[I'm not taking a stupid bath!] Uh- Waa-!?", America shrieked as I forced him out of his shirt and he tried to shout "Prr-! Per-! Ert"! (He's trying to shout "pervert" :D )

America scribbled all over his notebook that I could barely make out his written words. I became impatient and grabbed the notebook and the pen and threw it out the bathroom door, I then grabbed him by the neck and kicked the back of his right foot forward and he slipped and landed into the tub with a big splash.

"Uh- Ugh! *cough**cough* Ahh!", he coughed and gaged a bit on the water but once he got his head above the surface and panted heavily a little I knew he'd be fine. I sighed and walked out picking up the pen and scribbled paper. I looked back at America who was holding his throat while gasping and glaring at me, and replied "You can have this back once you're done, but until then wash up and be quiet".

Like a child America smacked the water in frustration as I closed the door and left. He sunk his head under and let himself soak in the hot bath water and after a short while he popped out with a towel around his neck and his damp clothes shoddily put back on. He crossed his arms and walked up to me at the table stomping his feet.

"Ahh-! Ugh-"!? America held his throat in surprise and then slowly looked down at his feet desolately.

I pulled the notepad and pen out of the front of my sweater and handed it to him "You might want this back"?

He took it back still looking down sadly. I laughed at him and said with a cunning smirk "It's intriguing about how easily we forget things when we become impulsive"

Grinding his teeth with antagonism, America carved two words boldly into the paper and threw it at my face.

"[FUCK YOU!]"

Sitting at the other end of the table, still greatly annoyed, America scribbled a little on my table and then again in his notepad. I wandered into the kitchen and prepared a nice hot bowl of stew and placed it in front of America.

America looked up at me still annoyed and wrote "[What the fuck is this?]"

"Just eat it"

"…." America just stared at it silently and glared at it as he was intimidated by it. I grabbed the back of his chair firmly and spoke harsh words of encouragement.

"You know just as much as I do America that you need to at least eat something considered sustenance".

Becoming tense, America looked away from me too shaken to see me face to face, so I got closer and made sure that he heard me. I whispered in his ear and asked "What scares you more America? The thought of dying, or enduring just a little bit of pain"?

It took a moment, but America grabbed his notepad, wrote down his thoughts quickly, and slammed it on the table. He then quickly took a spoonful of stew and shoved it in his mouth. He chewed and looked up at me irritated as I read what he had written.

"[The inevitable truth]"

My mind was cluttered with concepts and theories of what America could have meant by those words. He chewed and chewed almost like a cow and he was going rather fast for having not eaten something so solid in such a long period of time. I wanted to tell him to slow down, but he suddenly stopped completely.

"-Ugh"!?

"America…"?

It was just like when he noticed his voice was gone, stopping completely, so scared he began to turn pale, and his body stricken and frozen by fear. America rested his forehead on the edge of the table and tightly grabbed his throat with one hand and covered his face with the other. It was as if he was telling me; no, begging me not to look. I knelt beside him and watched as his face cringed in pain. He shook his head as if he was shouting; No! No! No! No!

"America…"?

"Ugh! ...Mngh"!

While covering his mouth, America shoved me out of the way and dashed into the bathroom. He hung his head over the toilet and instead of consuming more food he lost more than he had when he woke up.

"Ugh! …Uh"!

"….", I stood silently in the doorway to the bathroom and watched. America wiped the corners of his mouth and slowly looked back at me with his eyes becoming watery. He gripped his fists tightly; got to his feet and tried again and again, and again, but anything that America ate that wasn't near to liquids just came back up.

Stubbornly trying to hold the food down America kept trying, but in the end it was useless. With dribble dripping from his chin he gripped the sides of the toilet, and placed the back of his hand over his eyes and tried to stop himself from crying. I approached him but he did not dare look at me with such shameful eyes.

"America…"?

"Ngh"!

I softly called out to him and attempted to lightly tap his shoulder but shoved me away. America didn't want to be seen by anything that had integrity and could judge. I stepped out and closed the bathroom door and leaned against it with my mind scrambling to elucidate the sentiments that awoke within me.

Is this what America meant by the inevitable truth? Knowing the possibility that the fact that the only way to live now was starve and wither away slowly? Knowing that no matter what he did he could do nothing to preserve the time that inevitably doesn't stop for anything? Dying, unless it was as a hero, was never America's style. So maybe, just maybe the inevitable truth isn't his fear? Maybe it's the fact that he'll have no choice to accept it?

In that one moment of thought I asked myself "What am I afraid of? What was it that I was forced to accept? Hmm…? I can't remember…"?


	4. Chapter 4

"*ring*! *ring*! *ring*"!

"Da? Hello"?

"[Oh! Hey Russia it's England. I just wanted to inform you that a world meeting is today. Sorry to tell you on such short notice. That Wanker seems to have run off and disappeared, so I've decided to run the meeting]"

Wandering through the house with my usual happy façade I listened and agreed to the voice of the one that spoiled America.

"Oh that's quit alright. No problem. I'll be there this afternoon", I replied as I walked through the hall and slowly opened the door on the left.

England sounded nervous and hesitant on the phone as he tried ask me "[H-Hey Russia? Can I ask you something]"?

"Sure England. You can ask me anything", I replied with my joyful tone.

"[W-well I don't suppose you've seen the big idiot? I mean... or heard anything about him possibly]"?

Now England sounded concerned and worried. He was never very good at hiding his brotherly side when it came to America. Hearing England stutter and become all choked up over his precious America it always makes me gag on the inside.

I walked between the kitchen and the living room and came up behind the couch to reach out my hand towards the silent body curled up in the blankets. I brushed the hair out of his sleeping face to gently pat his head, and swiped the tips of my fingers across his sweaty forehead. He's still pretty warm, and he'll probably remain like this in his current condition.

As I continued to pat America's head I replied into the phone to England "I'm sorry England my friend. I haven't heard anything about America. I didn't even know he was missing"?

"[Ah! Damn that wanker not telling me where he is! Oh well whatever. He's probably in his house with the lights out playing his stupid video games. Thanks anyway Russia]".

"No problem England see you around".

*beep*

"Hmm..."?

America groaned as he opened his eyes to look at me questionably. He must have awoken to the loud beep of the phone and the distant echo of my voice. I could tell just by the look in his tired eyes that he was wondering who I was talking to.

"What? It was only my boss. He wants me to go to a world meeting later in the day".

"Uh"!

America threw off the blankets and tried to leap off the couch, but I made sure he couldn't even touch the floor. With just one arm at first I held him back by his shoulders, but he was rather persistent.

"Ngh! A-ah..."!

"America settle down. Do you really think I would let you leave to go to a world meeting. You can't speak and you have a fever".

My arm soon wasn't enough to hold him back. He scratched at my hands and kicked the side of the couch. His strength has almost completely depleted but his teeth and nails still had a good sharp bite to them. Feeling impatient I immediately went for the throat. I stood beside the right side of the couch where America's head was resting and gave a good squeeze. He choked a bit as I grabbed him by his wrists and forced him back on the couch. He became lightheaded and I quickly pinned his arms above his head as I straddled his waist to keep him from struggling. He glared at me panting heavily as I waited for him to calm down.

"Believe me when I say this America you're not leaving this house. This is my personal game that has but one ending and it's going to be finished".

"Ugh!"

America tried to kick me off but he was completely pinned. He never listened to reason so I had to give him a good one.

I leaned in close and with a cunning smirk asked him "Hehe... Do you really want England to see you like this? You'll never hear the end of it".

"Uh"!?

"You're voiceless, vulnerable, and weak. You can't contribute anything because you are useless. If England saw you right now he would look away with his expression cringed with disgust and regret".

Realizing that my words were true America settled down and laid back down. He buried his face into his right shoulder trying to hide his tears.

Nothing really ever changes with America. He's strong when he puts his mind to it, I'll give him that, but when it came to England he isn't anymore harmless then a mouse.

"Good boy, now stay here until I get back".

I adjusted my scarf and coat and proceeded to walk out as America laid there in silence. He curled up in the blankets covering his sobbing face with his back towards the foot of the couch and heavily breathed an exhausted sigh.

When I had arrived at the meeting destination I felt rather invincible if I were to describe it. I had never really left that house since trapping America in there, so all in all my guard was down.

*Crash*!

"Woah! S-sorry Russia"!

"Uh?", I looked up to see Britain's forest green military uniform and the drizzling of tea trickling down my forehead and into my eyes.

Britain was holding a tray that was holding a fragrant fancy tea and when I had accidentally bumped into him the tray jolted and I fell surprisingly. The tea cup spun and at the same time I hit the floor the tea cup had already landed on my head as well as the teapot.

"Sorry I didn't see you come in at all. Here", Britain apologized as he grabbed a rag and patted the tea soaking my hair.

I smile up at him and replied "Oh do not worry about it Britain. I know it was just an accident".

"Haha. Still I apologize", Britain held out his hand to help me up and I reached out my hand accepting his kind gesture.

I really wasn't mad at all. I would do the same if anyone did it, smile and brush it off, but when Britain's and my hand touched a sudden dizzying feeling engulfed me completely. A stench stung my nose and blocked my throat. I looked at our linking hands as Britain pulled me up and I suddenly felt like puking.

Getting to my feet as Britain went to ask for a maid. I watched him trot off with a pale uneasy stare and then an arm wrapped around me and spoke "Haha! Day dreaming about sunflowers again Russia? You never were one to like these meeting".

France was hanging on my shoulder as he spoke to me and I did my best to keep my composure. I swallowed a lump in my throat and tried to smile in reply "Haha... you can tell"?

I felt so disgusted. What is this feeling? Why am I feeling this way? It's as if an ominous cloud is devouring and slowly wrapping itself around me. I'm not used to being the one that's afraid.

"What's wrong? Maybe you should get some rest comrade"?

"Stop it"!

Hearing that word from France and the other Allies pushed me to my breaking point. I pushed him away and leaned my back up against the wall gasping heavily and gripping my shoulder tightly.

"Uh!? I-I'm sorry Russia? I didn't mean to-"

"France you make people too uncomfortable with your hugging ~Aru"!

Hearing China's voice made my head begin to spin. I quickly looked over at China, then back at France, and then at England who came back from fetching a maid. Why am I so on edge? Why am I so disgusted? It's as if I can't stand their voice's, their presence, their touch.

"I was only giving him a friendly greeting"?

"Well maybe in other countries they do not consider that friendly ~Aru"!

Their voices' were fine before but now they're beginning to echo and their faces became distorted. I didn't know how much more I could take. What the hell is this nauseating feeling? This discomfort of person's touch or kind words.

"Russia? What's wrong? You look pale", Britain reached out his hand to me again, but I refused it this time.

"Don't touch me"!

"..."

"I'm not your comrade! I'll help you as an Ally, but that's it! I never agreed to this friendship or brotherhood"!

I was hoping my words had a point to them but they didn't; not at all. Why would I suddenly lash out now? What changed?

"R-Russia...?", Britain asked still holding his hand out to me.

I freaked. I couldn't keep myself composed. Everything was hazy, my mind and my eyes wouldn't listen to me. As if they refused to see the reality my being

yearned.

"J-just stay away from me"!

Smacking away Britain's hand I stood and dashed out the door. How could I face all of them after breaking down like that? I had no idea how vulnerable I was and emotionally unstable. The only thing I could do was return to where I knew that these assumptions wouldn't haunt me.

Now I remember. That which I was afraid of. I was afraid of the way everything would unfold if I changed. I had finally found a point in my time where I can be me and nothing could interfere with that. My enemies coward at my presence and my allies were cautious of my every move. I was a tyrant and no one dares to threaten a tyrant, as long as a he remains one.

I had assumed that, like winter turning the rain to ice, I could somehow freeze myself within those moments of power, but I should have known; time doesn't wait.

I never trusted anyone. It was always just me and I want it to remain that way. If I was to decide to let go of my solitude and put my trust in others then I would rather abandon my ties with everything. My heart is as cold as the frozen snow, but at least it's mine. I won't let anything get close to me, this is my independence, my solitude, and just like the snow I refuse to listen to any sound you make.

_~To Be Continued~ _


	5. Chapter 5

**Note:** People have asked me twice about how America's throat was ripped out and yet he's still able to attempt to speak or groan. I will give you my honest answer and say that I really have no idea, I don't know how the throat works. I just thought it would be more dramatic and interesting for the story if America could make sounds or really broken words. I thought pretty hard about it though. : )

All these allies, these friends I've made; what was the point of them. Nothing, the only thing that could makes someone like me content is when all the playing cards are in my hands. If I cannot be the king you wish to obey then I shall be the tyrant you despise and fear.

When I had arrived home to that little house, it was a blizzard outside. I entered covered in snow, and America sat at the dining table writing something. He was bundled in sweaters and steaming cup of hot coco sat beside his empty hand.

America turned to greet me and wrote ["Welcome back"] on his notebook that was cluttered with little notes and scribbles.

My mind was so cluttered, my thoughts poisoned by emotions; when will this irritating feeling cease? More importantly when did it begin?

I raised my head, my hair tips dripping from the melting snow, and gazed towards America with a blank stare.

"You hate me right America...? I mean it's not as if you like me right..."?

"..."?

America tilted his head to the side a little looking puzzled. I quickly became impatient and raised my voice.

"You can't stand the sight of me! All of you assume the worst when Russia gets involved"!

Feeling the tension rise America sat back in the chair pulling his arms close to him with his shoulders scrunched up. I looked at him with a piercing gaze and began to walk forward. He stared up at me with aw and shriveled down into the chair, but when I reached him I pulled him up by the collar of his shirt.

"A-ah..."!?

The force of my pull caused America to drop his notebook. I pulled him up high enough that he had to point his toes so he wouldn't hang from my grip. I gritted my teeth hard enough to hear them grind. I just felt so angry and cornered. These comrades of mine don't understand how things work with me, so naturally I was determined to get my point across to at least one of them and I'll start with the weakest.

"Say it America. With those whimpers of yours. Say that you hate me. You hate my very existence".

"...uh.."?

"I said say it! If not then show me your eyes! Show me that concealed rebellious flame"!

America looked away and tightly closed his eyes, refusing to give me what I demanded.

"Look at me America"!

I shook him roughly, but he still did not wane. Even if it was just a choppy noise I wanted to hear the answer I wanted. Obviously I've been too soft on him, if it continues I'll loose myself at this rate. The playing cards I worked so hard to gather will be taken away. I needed him to know that I am an ally of war, not a friend.

Eventually America did look back at me but it was the complete opposite of what I wanted. He furrowed his eyebrows and gave me the most pitiful look in his eyes; he pitied me.

Why are you looking at me like that? Stop it... Don't look at me like that!

"I don't need any of your pity!", I shouted landing a hard hit to America's left cheek.

I lost it. I had become a monster of anger and fear. It's not that I intended to use such brutal tactics, I really only meant to break them with words alone, but this child; this stupid little punk of a nation is breaking me instead.

America held his swollen cheek and looked at me still with the same expression. I know he was trying to tell me something, but I refused to think on the matter.

"Just say it! Say that you hate me! I'm the coldest heartless bastard you ever met!

"..."

No matter how much I shook, shouted, and insulted America he wouldn't hied to my demands. He tightly pressed his lips together and refused to even try to speak.

"Stubborn wretch! I know you all hate me! You always have! And I can deal with it! Since birth I've always had to fend for myself. I don't need any of your pity!

"..."

"It doesn't matter anyway. Whether you hate me or not. I won't let anyone change my ways".

Realizing that I was getting no where I turned to exit out the front door. The blizzard didn't really bother me much; besides, I've survived one before a really long time ago.

"..."?

"You can go crawling back into England's arms, I couldn't care less! I'll send you back tomorrow, so you can show everyone how utterly useless you are! Then again when have you ever been useful America"?

"!? Ah-! *bang*"!

Once America notice my departure he sprung to his feet, but his ankles were weak and his body was brittle. The moment he put weight on his feet they locked and he fell face first into the floor boards. By then I was already out the door.

You're not the only one America. I know what it's like to be weak, to be discarded. It's a cold numbing feeling that your body remembers until the end is granted. Now it is your turn to feel the same, for this shall be the only thing I share with you comrade.

_~To Be Continued_...


	6. Chapter 6

**Note:** This chapter will be written from America's P.O.V. instead of Russia's.

All I cared about was being great. That's all I wanted. Being great meant being noticed, and the only way I knew how to achieve that was to speak. My idea's, my opinion's; I wanted everyone to know that I wasn't a spoiled brat England raised. I wanted them to think I was a country that they could be proud of.

I had no idea that it would push those I deeply admired so far out of my reach. I became so obsessed with the desire to be noticed that I had forgotten how to shut my big fat mouth.

The leader of the Allies, a superpower, I was so great and now I can't even get off the floor.

Trembling with anxiety I pushed myself up and forced my legs to stand. I clung to the wall tripping over my own two feet. I must look so pathetic, when have I ever been a hero? I'm a lame ass loser who can't do anything without relying on others.

Holding my breath I walked towards the front door and then tried to breathe slowly. I zipped up my coat, managed to tie my boots tightly, and put on that stupid hat Russia made me wear. Clutching the door knob tightly I slowly opened the door and a strong gust of wind pushed me back. Putting my hands up in defense I ventured out in the frozen wasteland that trapped me with that demonic country.

Seeing that smile always on his face never showing his other side to others, that's what I always despised about Russia. Even when he's angry he's always smiling silently and laughing at me. It's as if I was a fool in his eyes always mocking me with that unwavering grin.

"Ugh"!

The wind was ruthless, it was like needles stinging every single nerve in your face. I never understood why it could be so cold here in Russia's home. It can be calm and then at other times it can be deadly.

The snow was deep. I thought I was going to fall through. My legs sunk into the snow up to the top of my knees. Maneuvering was rigorous and freezing to the bone. It felt as if my limbs could give out at any second.

I admit I never liked Russia, but still there are things I need to clear. My stubborn will won't let me decide unless that big boned vodka lover hears what I have to say.

"Uahh"!? My knees buckled and I fell face first into the snow.

God dammit it's cold! The blistering wind swirled around me forcing me to stand my ground. Small shards of ice splintered my eyes and the frost bit at my nose.

Where the hell are you? Stupid Russia! Making me go out in this freezing shit weather! If you had problems with what everyone thought of you then why didn't you tell anyone? You have two sisters, you have siblings that'll listen to you, why not talk to them? You have a freaking voice!

You have a voice you moron. You're the one that can say how you feel and yet you choose not to? Why? It's so stupid, so stupid.

No one could ever hear me. Not even when I did have my voice. They thought I was annoying and useless, just a noisy stupid brat, but I'm not. I'm not a fool... I'm not a fool... I'm not a fool...

I trembled from the cold and gripped my chest tightly as I slowly tried to breath in the frigid air. Burying my face into the collar of my coat, I roughly coughed, trying to keep the snow from piling up in the back of my hood.

I'm not gonna die here. I'm not gonna get buried in this frozen shit land! I placed my right foot forward, but all my joints were locked.

Please, let this damaged form of mine work. Just once let me call out to him. I took in a deep breath, cleared my throat as best I could, and let out all my broken body could take.

"AAAHHHHHHHHHH! Ugh-!?",

I brought my frozen hands quickly to my face and I suddenly couldn't stop coughing, "*cough*! *cough*! *cough*! Ack-! ...ugh..."!?

When I finally stopped my body froze as I gazed downwards. My whole body shivered with so much fear as blood slowly dropped from my chin. I knew then, staring wide eyed into the blood stained snow that I had one final choice and the only thing I could do was accept it; my inevitable truth.

My hands were soaked in my own blood. It was suffocating watching my body crumble as if it wasn't my own anymore. I stumbled to my feet gripping my side tightly, trying to stand.

I'm not done here yet. I still have things to do. Whether I have a voice or not there are still things I want to say. Because even though I'm struggling in this decrepit body there are so many things I've realized while trapped in this form. A hero doesn't give up as pathetically as this!

"Uwah-"!?

Tripping over my own feet I heard a crack in my right foot and then not long after pain pulsed through my right leg. I couldn't catch myself in time, I tumbled down a steep hill and the snow isn't always as soft as it looks. There were branches from withered trees and rocks from the crumbling earth that hid themselves beneath the white frost.

The first tumble I had pulled a joint in my right ankle that shattered the bone connecting to my foot. The second tumble a thick branch stabbed me in the back without piercing through the skin. The third tumble consisted of multiple abrasions to the head, shoulders, knees, and chest. Finally during the last tumble a sharp rock had torn through my winter coat and shredded my lower abdomen, just above the left side of my pelvis. I stopped short hitting my back hard against the bottom trunk of a tree.

"Ngh..."

When I had finally reached the bottom I tried my best to move anything, but the only thing I could do was twitch my fingers. I could barely keep my eyes open and my world began to quickly spin. As I laid there mixing with the snow I struggled to gather myself.

What was Russia so scared of? What could be his reason for pushing everything away? I've tried to understand him, but whenever I thought about it all I could feel was this overwhelming resentment. I wonder if he tried to do the same?

Is it really possible to be so frightened of ones presence that you isolate yourself from them? Even if you truly admired them you'd still end up hurting them in the end?

"Uh"!?

My eyelids were so heavy, but when my mind suddenly began to dream of _him_ my eyes burst open and my tears overflowed from the corners. I saw visions of that day blurred in the far off distance of the snow. It was raining and it was the first time I had ever looked down upon that person. He became a broken man because of me; because I was scared.

I swallowed the blood clumping in my throat as I began to sob. I closed my eyes again trying to hold my unsteady breath still.

_England... I'm so scared..._

_~To Be Continued..._


	7. Chapter 7

If you're quiet enough did you know that you can hear the earth breathe beneath your feet? It can be so clear that it echoes and thumps like a heart beat. As if a body was buried, sleeping just beneath the surface.

When my paranoia had subsided the wind and the snow seemed to die down and became calm. I made my way back to the house, but as I opened the door the air seemed just as cold as it did outside. The fire had died and the lights turned off. I searched and noticed America's coat was gone as well.

"That idiot".

I shut the door behind me and began my search. At least the blizzard had stopped, but the snow still continued to flutter. I called out to him a numerous times, but of course a reply could not be given. It seemed hopeless to the snow canceling my voice to the fact that America can't speak. What was I to do?

I stood there in thought and eventually I could hear it. I looked down at the snow and listened eager to hear it once more.

"...thump..."

It was almost as if I could feel it a soft thumping beneath the snow. It was a weak sensation, but from then on I knew exactly what to do.

I stopped and listened with every step I took, searching for which direction the pulse was the loudest. Once I had used this ability of mine when I was younger hunting rabbits. It wasn't hard to learn it just came to me. I suppose when you've been outside in the snow since birth a sixth sense is given to make surviving this lands harsh terrane.

It didn't take long for the sound of the heart beat to lead me to what I wanted. I watched my feet as if I could see those soft ripples of sound. Eventually I stopped to investigate a faded puddle of blood soaked deep into the snow. There were smaller lighter patches of blood leading away just a little off to the right. In that direction was a steep decline in the geographical makeup. I looked below seeing that same trail of blood and followed it with caution.

I wasn't partially apathetic as my expression was written, but nor was I really worried. It was inevitable, right? America had to die by the end of this game. I made sure that the final outcome would be me in the end. Even if he did manage to survive all this he'd still be in that house voiceless and forgotten.

Yes, I knew that when the final hand was dealt America would have no choice but to fold.

I carefully slid down the steep hillside avoiding the trees and stones that hide in the path. It was rather difficult even for me to maneuver it without slipping. I can't imagine anyone surviving it injured. I held tight to the naked branches of the winter trees and made my way to the bottom where the blood trail had finally come to an end.

If America were to slowly die out here in the cold, unable to even call for help, I wouldn't care. Not the slightest but of remorse in my conscience. Even if he had regrets, or final words. I would refuse to carrying out his last wishes, but if I said all this I would be lying. This ache in my chest is that very proof.

In my mind the craziness began to stir but I did my hardest to keep my expression the same collected and cold as I looked down at America. He was curled up with his back against a tree covered by a thin layer of softly fallen snow. He couldn't have bled out, it's too cold for someone to bleed out. The blood should freeze as it hits the snow.

I will say I was unsure whether he was alive or dead, but a strong feeling in my gut told me otherwise. I knew my enemy's well therefore my gut was not wrong.

"Get up".

There was no answer not even the slightest of movement in return.

"I said get up America", I tried again.

It took a few minutes but with the twitch of his fingers America moved his hand, and then sluggishly moved his arm.

"Come on you can move more. I know you can".

America turned his head slowly only moving his eyes to respond to me.

"I'm going to assume you're asking 'why?' since you are unable to speak with your notes. I will answer even though you're just being stubborn. You know the answer just as much as I do. I refused to die like this too, back in my earlier days and I'm very positive you are thinking the same. Now get up".

"...", America withdrew his gaze and looked towards the snow to see all the blood he had spread. He then winced in pain as he began to move his arms eventually getting to his knees. I observed him carefully, standing still and patient. I never left his side until he was able to stand on his own.

On all fours America pushed up on his arms and bent his knees only using the one un-fractured foot as an anchor. His expression was strained, getting to the point of standing was the hardest. In the end I thought he couldn't do it. He fell back to his side again, held his wound tightly, and breathed heavily from the strain.

I was about to just sweep him from under his arm and carry him back home by myself. It would've been easier on him, but after just a short breather America began to rise again. He was able to get his back to slightly lean against the trunk of the tree and then by holding tight to the tree raised himself to stand.

I was amazed and when America stood he glared at me and all I could do was laugh in response.

"Haha~ Here you are practically on your death bed. You can barely stand or breathe and yet you can still give me a look like that".

"..."

"Well then since your standing why don't we be off? It's a pretty long way back to the house", I suggested with a rather joyful sarcastic tone.

As I began to walk off America's determined glare turned into an expression of hopelessness. He looked down at his bloody coat with furrowed eyebrows and began to slide back down the tree.

Before America could reach the ground I quickly scooped him under the shoulder to help support him.

"I got ya...", I mumbled in his ear.

America almost passed out in my arms, but I could feel him grip onto my coat giving me a sign that he was still somewhat conscience. If I made him walk on his own it'd take hours to get back, and he'd probably just die half way there, so I carried him. I held him up as I slowly turned around, and used the support of the tree to lift him onto my back. I leaned more forward so that if his grip failed we wouldn't tumble backwards.

Walking on I couldn't help but want to speak. America's head dangled over my shoulder and I asked "You still there? Not dead yet are you"?

America tightened his grip in response.

"I'm actually kind of glad you didn't die out here. It means I can play with you a little bit longer".

All my efforts would have been wasted if America had died. The pleasure of killing my prey slowly would have been gone, so I'm great full for his determination. I wonder where America received such a strong will? It couldn't have possibly been from England. The only way I've seen America is he's lazy, takes credit from others, and never seems to get his hands dirty. Did he gain it from being raised by England or because he went against him?

I could see the house in the distance and I said, "Okay America lets see who wins at the end of this game".

Carrying America into the house I dropped him onto the couch and went to the bathroom to fill the tub with hot water. When the tub was full enough I carried America and gently placed him in the water. I stopped filling the tub just enough so that it wouldn't cover his face.

America was out in the cold for a couple of hours he's bound to have frost bite and the hot water makes it easier to clean his wounds. I unzipped his coat to inspect his injuries and the one gash on his side was pretty bad. Once the blood vessels had defrosted the blood began to run and the water became murky.

When I tried to wrap America his eyes opened and he began to raise his arms. I laughed at his perseverance, "I'm surprised you're still able to move. Just what exactly are you trying to accomplish"?

America used his finger to write in the mist that stuck to the side of the tub and wrote, ["I need to speak again"]

"Oh I see...", I said as my smile disappeared and I frowned upon America in response.

We countries do not die as ordinary humans. Though dying is still a possibility for us, but if someone were to kill a country in order to end their existence it's virtually impossible. We would just be reborn again but we would never be the same.

America closed his eyes again trying to relax himself and not think about the pain. I leaned forward into the tub covering my face with an ominous shadow to take both hands in attempt to wrap them tightly around his neck and push him under. America and I both knew that the only way to get his voice back was to reset everything.

So this is how it ends huh? Looks like I win America.

I was able to get my fingers around his neck, but before I could push America under he stopped me. He looked at me and he held one of my hands as if he was telling me to wait.

"What is it? You're hesitating now? You want to speak again right? So why are you-"

America slowly lifted his arms shaking as he reached for my face. The tips of his finger were like icicles pinching my cheeks. As he went closer and closer to my face I began to lose it.

"W-wait... stop it..." I pushed on America's shoulders telling him to stop, but he continued to reach almost caressing my face. Nothing was supposed to matter in the end. This all should end with him dead, that's how I planned this, but the more I come in contact with him the more my heart began to race. This feeling, I don't like it, I want it to stop.

The palm of America's hand was almost laid completely on my cheek, but before the exchange of heat could be set I tensed up and shouted "Stop it"!

Fearlessly America held both sides of my face and as I stared into his hazy gaze I became lost. He calmly and gently placed his palms over my ears.

What is he doing? What was the point of covering my ears?

Although as I felt America's thin fingers tickle the ends of my hair, it was silent. I couldn't hear anything as if everything around me vanished and I was plunged into a calm darkness.

America's skin was cold but the pulse in his wrist, his slowly beating heart, was warm.

_~To Be Continued..._


	8. Chapter 8

**Note**: I want to thank all my readers who have kept up with this RusAme Fanfiction. I really enjoyed your feed back and I'm great full for all your support as well. Oh and I apologize if this chapter is really confusing and strange, but it's all explained in the end. If it's still weird don't hesitate to ask in the comments or message me. I love to chat! : )

This will be the final chapter of "Say I Love You".

It's warm...

Really warm...

As if the sun is greeting me from beyond the clouds and through the wind.

I blinked my eyes, but then quickly shut them for there was a blinding light. I raised my tiny hand in front of my face to block the brightness and when I could fully open them I saw a vast forest of vibrant sunflowers.

"Huh? Where... is this"?

Gazing about in shock everywhere I turned it was sunflowers that towered above me. The sky was so bright and blue, I had never seen such vividness.

Later noticing I looked at my small hands and how everything a around me looked so big. I don't remember any of this being in my memories.

Wandering forward in one direction out of curiosity I looked down watching my tiny feet step by step. I was pondering through my thoughts trying to find some recognition of this place. I eventually came up to a wooden fence and a loud shout made me look up.

"Hey! Russia boy"!

"Huh"?

A boy swinging his feet as he sat on the edge of the fence smiled brightly down to me with a sunflower in his right hand and eyes as blue as that vast sky.

He had blonde hair with a cowlick and a missing baby tooth where his top canine would be. He was dressed normally in a t-shirt and shorts to run fast in.

I looked up in surprise and asked "W-where is this-"

"Come on let's play"!

The boy leaped off the fence and pulled me by my hand in the opposite direction before I could finish my sentence. We dashed through that field of sunflowers heading uphill and before I knew it we were running through the clouds. They were soft to the touch and they cooled my skin washing away the running sweat.

"Hold up"!

"Huh"?

Suddenly we stopped at the edge of an extremely steep cliff. You could barely see the bottom where water laid to catch us.

"You ready"!?

"N-no", I nervously replied.

I didn't have much of a choice he held my hand so tightly. He leaped off the edge pulling me down with him. I cried as he laughed and shouted the whole way down sliding swiftly on the rocks and eventually splashing into the pool below.

I slowly opened my frightened eyes while still under the water and so clearly I could see fish, coral reefs, and even whales. It was unimaginable such a small pond could contain what would only be able to be held in an ocean.

Running out of air I swam to the surface and as I popped my head up I was only crawling out of a small stream. The boy was already out of the water; he was hurrying me to catch up.

"You'd better hurry or else you're gonna loose"!

I reluctantly followed him trying to catch up. I reached out to his running figure to grab hold of him, to get him to slow down.

"W-wait! Uh-"!?

"Woah"!

I grabbed his shirt, but stumbled; accidentally pushing him and tumbling down a high hill. Together we rolled with only the green grass to catch our fall. It didn't hurt but we were going so fast I couldn't tell when we were going to stop.

Eventually we rolled into a patch of sunflowers just like the ones before. We flatten a huge patch which slowed down our uncontrollable speed and when we did finally stop we laid next to each other huffing and puffing, with our hands connected, and laughing.

I couldn't remember the last time I had laughed so hard or ran as if there was no end to the path ahead of me.

That boy turned with an ecstatic expression and said "Aw! I guess you win! You rolled further than me"!

"Uh? I guess I did"?

"Yeah! This place is great isn't it! We can run anywhere, swim anywhere, and dream anywhere! The best part is the sunflowers never die"!

The boy got to his feet to pick some sunflowers and suddenly my mind became clear again. I sat up and asked again "America... Where is this place"?

"..."

He wouldn't look at me. Instead he gazed towards the twilight sky with a rather saddening expression and changed the subject quickly, "Y'know I really had a lot of fun with you today. If it's okay can we be friends"?

He held out his hand to me smiling so brightly with a sunflower in his other hand again. I was drawn to his blue eyes and all the sunflowers that grew around him. They are my absolute favorite. Such a beautiful flower that can reach so high and replace the sun.

I slowly reached out my hand to hold his, but then a pain rang in my head and I pulled it back.

They flashed through my vision, those memories of coldness, and blood. That merciless childhood of mine. When my will was caged and controlled. They told me I had no choice but to be a ruthless and powerful nation.

"NOOOO! I won't! None of this is real! I refuse! I refuse to change"!

*CRACK*

I covered my ears tightly with my hands and suddenly the world around me shattered; as if it were a mirror breaking from the very sound of my pulse alone. After, there was nothing left but darkness, but America did not even flinch, he just looked down in sorrow.

"I was raised this way... The moment I was born they sent me off! They sent me out to die! To survive, to fend for myself. It was so cold... My limbs were frozen in a dark blue. Pain was agony. If I was to live I had to be at the top, I had to be the one they feared... or else no one would listen".

I threw my face into the palm of my hands, tugged at my hair, quivered to the paranoia that consumed me. I hate this feeling, this feeling of rush, as if my body can't keep up with my mind. Everything is so irritable and the hatred, the pain, it brings me back to so many unwanted things.

My body was covered with chills, but suddenly America's hands reach out to me and within an instant I began to relax. He pulled my hands away from my face and sincerely gazed into my violet eyes. His expression was so warm, but he looked as if he would start crying before I did. He smiled and stated "Y'know for one who has a voice, you are extremely hard to get through to".

"Huh..."?

"Look at us... I wouldn't be surprised if everyone pitied us. You and I... We... are a lot more alike then we realize".

This America is different, he's so much more collected and he has a sense of maturity. He held my hands with a gentle, but firm hold. It was such a soothing feeling. I almost felt as if I could close my eyes carelessly and I almost did actually, but then something plopped on the surface of my skin. I quickly looked up and saw a trail of blood trickling from the corner of America's mouth.

"You're bleeding"!

America let go, wiped his mouth, and looked away chuckling a little, "I can't even get the words to come to me. Last words are so troubling. You never know what to say in such short amount of time, but who knew that you could realize so much when you just spend time with one person? Listening and relating to one another, it's really amazing."

"Huh"?

"You were a victim. A child that was treated as if it were an adult. We nations truly are a power being, but that does not mean we don't deserve a childhood. Actually I believe that as countries we rely on our childhoods just as much as humans do. That small moment of happiness to pick us up through times of hardship".

"..."?

"Now I'm not saying that I pity you or accepting what you did to me, but as a thank you for helping me open my eyes I will give you this 'me's' final words".

America leaned in as he caressed my face, and as he closed his eye he gave me a kiss with his soft lips. It was simple, but tantalizingly sweet. It only lasted a few seconds, but I felt that I would give anything for those few seconds to become mine again.

Once he pulled away I opened my own eyes to see America smiling and crying. Then without a pen and a piece of scrap paper, or his broken words, he said so clearly and sincerely, as his silhouette slowly began to fade, those three words.

_"I love you"_

"Y-you... love me...?", I asked myself feeling my cheeks sting and my nose getting stuffed. My realization that it was possible for a stubborn fool, a monstrosity of a country like me could be loved, broke my very truth.

My heart had grown at least two times it's size that day for my cold nature melted away from the beating of another's. With the given freedoms of so many my body couldn't stop shaking. I must have spent hours on the floor, in that steamy bathroom, in that lonely house; unable to stop a signal tear or any of my painful cries.

Eventually when I finally got the chance to breath I said with my face buried in my hands "You're cruel America... these emotions were suppressed for a reason... and now all I feel is hurt..."

That world that America had showed me was something he had made in his head. He created it for the purpose of escaping reality. If at anytime the world became too much to bare he'd cover his ears, close his eyes, and while listening to the beating of his heart drown himself in his own imagination. I suppose he felt more alive when he did. No, I think he felt more human. The body and mind of a country have always been a mystery even to ourselves.

I had awoken eventually with my eyes swollen from never ending tears. I was kneeling on the bathroom floor, covered in blood, clutching tightly to America's leather jacket. He had dissolved into the air, that America who had laid trapped and voiceless here in my home was gone. Where he had appeared afterward was a mystery that no one shall discover.

It's bizarre really, when I had eventually felt stable enough to face the others they all acted as if nothing had ever happened. As if my time being with America had all been a fleeting dream.

I walked down that massive meeting hall, where we all sat and argued about the ways of the world. Personally I could never get accustomed to them. It just seems every time war would break out with only a few insulting words, but I wanted to confirm something with my own eyes.

Gazing down that long stretched wooden table, sitting between England and Japan with his smile ever so bright. I felt as if my chest would burst for my heart melted at the very sight of him. He had returned with his voice as loud as ever and his spirits reaching high towards the sky.

I couldn't control myself because before I knew it, in front of all my allies and enemy's I leaped into America's embrace.

"R-Russia!?", they shouted.

America's expression was so innocent, and warm with a the slightest bit of confusion. His cheeks were flushed and his eyes were surprised. Although I knew he remembered because if this were anything like the previous America fear and anger would be present. There is no more of that though because now all that was left was comfort and most of all understanding.

I hugged America so tightly, my scarf coiling around his neck to hide the kiss that I promised myself I would return and I whispered contently into his ear, "_Ya lyublyu tebya"_

People smile to show appreciation, they seal their lips to pout, and they look away to cry. These actions aren't any more different then expressing ones self with words.

Whether by ally or enemy, brother or sister, parent or child; the ability of understanding another ones pain is a true way to say...

_**I love you**_

~The End~

Ya lyublyu tebya = I love you


End file.
